A Different Path
by chris400ad
Summary: The war is raging and the Ministry is losing. Can anyone really save the Wizarding World from the brink, or are they doomed to destruction? This is the story of old friendships, new alliances and the beginning of a promise made for the good of others.


**AN: Published for round two of the Quidditch League, this is my take on the challenge to have someone joining a magical group. I hope you all like it.**

The street bustled, rain hammered against car rooves and slammed against windows, muggle hurried by with their heads bowed and their tempers frayed. It was an ordinary street, on a normal, rainy British day. Somewhere along the road a car horn blared, a woman at the mouth of an empty alleyway turned back to look. She didn't see that the alley was anything but empty.

"Remind me again why I'm stuck in the rain?" the first man asked bitterly as stepped back from out of the shadows he'd briefly retreated into. Soaked hair, long and matted, clung to his rakish features. Had he had time for a shower and a shave, then he would have been handsome, but nature always had a way of making the beautiful look bleak.

"Because we both won't fit under here." A disembodied voice replied rather smugly.

"We always used to."

"Would you quit whinging? We'll miss her."

"Just five minutes?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"It's my cloak."

"And I'm wet."

"And I'm not, now shut up."

"Wouldn't be saying that if you were soaked." He grumbled irritably, shaking his head. A few droplets from his sodden mane hit something invisible and slid down, forming a puddle at the foot of the graffiti-ridden wall. "Remind me again why I'm doing this?"

"They needed volunteers."

"Funny. I don't remember signing up."

"Yeah, well, I said you would. Didn't think you'd mind."

"I had to ditch Rosie for this."

"Emily."

"Same thing."

"Honestly, Padfoot, I don't know how you manage it."

Sirius Black smiled for the first time that evening. Even in the pissing rain James had a way of making him do that.

"C'mon, Prongs, if you've got it."

"Shut up," James hissed.

"I was only -"

"No, look."

On the other side of the street a gorgeous woman had appeared. She was stone dry and clad in a long black robe that many of the passers-by would just mistake for a long coat to keep her safe from the rain. Sirius had only ever seen that face on wanted posters, smiling smugly into the magical lens, letting the public see her mania.

Irene Greegrass.

"Gotcha."

"You know the plan?"

"Yeah, yeah. Keep my distance. Look like a muggle. I know."

He stepped out into the street before James could say anything else. The crowd enveloped him, muggles hurrying from left to right, desperate to get out of the rain. He didn't look different, but he didn't need to. No Death Eater would be looking for a young muggle walking the streets.

He ducked out of the crowd, crossing the road and keeping his head low. Greengrass stalked through the assembled muggles, her outfit pristine and her mood calm. Unlike Sirius she hadn't forgone the protective charms that could keep her dry, but that was exactly why she wouldn't see him. Someone muttered something as she passed, a snide remark lost in the wind. She stopped. Sirius tensed, not stopping. He was too far away, it too soon. He couldn't use magic here.

Somewhere a car alarm sounded, hazard lights exploding into life. She looked away, searching for the source of the noise and the muggle went on. Sirius didn't even realise until he let go that his hand had gone to his wand.

Unseen he kept pace, ducking into alleyways and pausing by lampposts whenever he thought she might catch a glimpse of him. James was nowhere to be seen, but that was rather the point. If one of them lost her then the other could keep up. That was the point of the rings. They burned when a message came through, put your wand to it and think what you wanted to say and it would be written on the inside. Genius idea of Mooney's.

After a few minutes Greengrass moved away from the hubbub of the main street, cutting across an abandoned old park and heading for an old corner shop. The front was boarded up and the signs were all outdated, selling brands the no longer existed and offering deals in currency that Sirius didn't even understand.

The ring burnt. Sirius ignored it as he crept up closer to the shop. He was a few steps away, if she looked round she would see. From the depth of her cloak she'd drawn her wand, not checking to see if any muggles could see. Probably had a repelling charm. Her wand tip graced the handle and the door swung open. He lunged but it was too late, damn thing smashed in his face before he could slip through.

Silently cursing her, Sirius removed the ring from his finger.

 _We go in two, I'll take the back._

 _Parkin's,_ was all Sirius sent back. They often used Quidditch plays to plan their attacks, it saved anyone from understanding what they said. Parkin's Pincer. Strictly speaking it meant to chasers would attack from eitherside and one would come from underneath, but they never really followed the rules.

Fishing out his watch, Sirius watched the seconds tick by. He had to give James a chance to get into position but the longer they waited the more whatever was happening in there went on. He had visions of muggles tied up being tortured, plans to wipe out whole towns being drafted up. This was a rendezvous with a purpose, no mere coincidence. They couldn't apparate out - that was for certain. It was why she'd walked all that way, she'd have to come out through the front door. Unless there was another way. One they'd not found. It been reactionary at best, the tip had come in late. Moody had advised against it, but they'd gone anyway.

A minute.

He teetered on the step, indecisive and reckless. He was the Black that no-one trusted, the one they all thought was a closet Death Eater. This would show them, big name like Greengrass under his cloak, he'd be laughing. They couldn't doubt him then. Even if they did, what did it matter? Least he could sleep knowing he'd tried to stop her.

A minute and half.

That was enough. James wouldn't be far behind. He cast a quick eye over his shoulder, making sure no muggles caught wind of what he was doing. When he was sure it was safe, he tapped the wand on the handle. There was a click and it pulled back. The smell hit him before anything else did. Even before his eyes adjusted to the gloom he was drowned in it.

The shop had been entirely remodelled, instead of an open floor space, Sirius found himself in a narrow hallway. Blood smeared the walls, everything felt sticky and dark underfoot. Hurriedly he rushed along it, wand drawn. The door to the basement stood ajar, orange light, distant and flickering, could be seen coming from its depths. Sirius almost maintained his composure. Until the scream. Then everything became a blur.

He remembered later there being three of them, all surrounding a man strung up by invisible bonds, tying yanking his arms from their sockets. He was completely still, trapped and only able to scream as Greengrass laughed. Sirius would always be able to remember his face, caught in a constant state of anguish. Eyes bulged. Skin pale. Tears flowing freely down his gaunt cheeks.

Everything else was a chaos of anger. Shouted spells. Green light thrown to mirror his red. One man hit the floor instantly stunned, the other took a little more time. Too much, he'd forgotten about Greengrass. Something hard slammed into his side and Sirius was sent staggering. Hair fell into his face and then he was screaming. Pain tearing across every part of him. He couldn't see, couldn't hear. There was nothing but the agony of her retribution.

Then it was over, as quickly as it had begun and James was standing in front of him.

"You alright?"

Sirius grunted, clawing his way back to his feet. Greengrass lay unconscious on the floor, her wand had rolled away out of her reach. If they didn't need it for evidence, Sirius would have snapped it.

"I said two."

"Thought it was, must've miscounted."

"Sure that's all it was?"

"Yeah." Unconvinced but accepting, James nodded as he began summoning ropes from his wand and tying up the various Death Eaters on the floor.

"Right, I'll take this lot in. You head back to Moody, tell him we've got her then go get checked out. I'll see you later."

oOo

The war dragged on and people like Greengrass kept appearing. Sirius was soon flooded with raids, but more and more the Death Eaters kept slipping through their fingers. The Aurors were doing their best, but they were stretched thin. Everyone worked over-time but it wasn't enough. There were laws they couldn't bypass, magic they couldn't commit in front of muggles and protocols to observe. By the time politicians and department heads were satisfied the Death Eaters had already vanished.

The Ministry was failing.

It was that reason that Sirius found himself back at Hogwarts. The school was closed for the summer, only the ghosts and Peeves haunted the halls. Even the old poltergeist seemed down-trodden, refusing to even through water over Sirius as he stepped over the threshold. There had been rumours that Dumbledore was recruiting an army of sorts, a secret order that could things the Ministry couldn't. It was only when a small roll of parchment found its way to Sirius' desk that he really started to believe that it might be true.

"Come in, Sirius."

How did he know? How did he always bloody know? Sirius hadn't even replied, not sure in himself if he would even come.

"Sir, you wanted to see me?"

"My boy," Dumbledore said warmly, arms spread wide. His eyes twinkled and his smile serene. The office was just as Sirius remembered it back from his school days. An organised palace of books, old headmasters and mistresses lining the wall and the gorgeous phoenix, Fawkes, perched on his stand. Somethings never changed.

"Do take a seat. Lemon drop?"

"No, thanks."

They both sank into their respective chairs, Dumbledore pausing only to retrieve a small lemon drop from his desk. Piercing blue eyes watched Sirius cautiously from behind the half-moon spectacles. He felt, not like the Auror he was, but the fifteen year old boy that had been thrown into detention every other week.

"By now I am sure that you have heard of my efforts to help stop Lord Voldemort."

Straight to the chase then, Sirius thought grimly. His encounter with Irene Greengrass was still pretty fresh on his mind, and the nightmares hadn't stopped yet.

"Yes, sir."

"I've been looking for like-minded individuals, such as yourself, who may be willing to help. I'll be honest with you, Sirius, we're losing. Whether the Minister would care to admit it or not, but Voldemort has to be stopped." He paused for a moment, sucking on his lemon drop thoughtfully. "I hear you have had the misfortune of Miss Greengrass."

"That's one word for it." Sirius muttered gruffly.

"Quite. You were commendable, I hear. A little reckless perhaps, but commendable."

"No offense, sir. But why are we talking about this?"

"Because I suspect that underneath it all, you have a point to prove. Black is a dark name after all, and what with Regulus -"

"I'm not my brother!"

"I would propose that you are, after a fashion. Both ambitious, intelligent and desperate to prove yourself. In your case, it is as an Auror. In Regulus's, well, he is after something altogether more disquieting. My point, Sirius, is that we have a chance to win. A chance to make something better. We can't do that with men like you dead before their time."

The accusation levelled him like a stampeding Hippogriff. He'd seen it before in James eyes, buried it as nothing. How did he even know? No-one else had been there. The only was… James. All those late nights with Lily, vanishing to leave Sirius with the paperwork after an arrest, all of it. He'd been off saving the world with Dumbledore, and he hadn't even said.

Anonymous tip. That's what James had told him. Irene Greengrass had been a tip. Maybe some Death Eater that might have caught a conscience. It had been the Order, James even. Had it all been some sort of test? See how good he was. That's why Dumbledore knew. It was like a fog being lifted. All the little things that hadn't made sense were suddenly thrown into perfect clarity. It had been James all long, with Dumbledore pulling the strings.

"James told you." It wasn't a question.

"He may have said something. Enough for me to know that you need us as much as we need you. The Order can give us a chance to win this, but it will not be a great fight, and there will be no stories told about you. Wouldn't you rather live a survivor, than die a martyr?"

"What does this Order even do?"

"Gather information mainly, identify our enemy and pass it on where can. Irene Greengrass, for instance. Other cases, and only if necessary, we act when others cannot. Voldemort's army is growing and I need people who look out for one another. I need you, if I can I trust you?"

A few months ago Sirius would have said no, told Dumbledore that he should leave it to the Ministry and walk away, self-righteous and wrong. The Ministry was leading them to ruin. The image of Irene Greengrass's last victim swam to the forefront of his mind. That anguish, that pain and Sirius had only just got there. What if he hadn't? What if the Order hadn't helped? He'd be just one more death to the hundreds that had piled up already. Just another statistic to be logged somewhere. One more innocent soul lost to the night. What they did was beyond evil, but to stand by and not everything he could to help would be even worse.

"Yes, sir."

"Excellent, wouldn't you agree, James?"

"Absolutely," smirked James's head as it appeared from thin air. Sirius couldn't help but laugh. Of course he was there, why wouldn't he be? "Welcome to the Order, Padfoot."

"Happy to be here, Prongs. So, where do we start?"


End file.
